Holiday films
Dear All,
Our winter holidays have been spent mostly in sleeping and eating and relaxing... amazing how fatigued your mind and body become with the everyday routine or work/school/home, a few days off and the tiredness really hits you then. Anyhow, in between sleeping late and being couch potatoes (entrenched on the sofa, sole activity being pressing buttons on the TV remote), we did all manage to go to the cinema and see the much hyped-up film Avatar.

Obsessions

Here are a few of TNS favourite picks

American officials often complain that Pakistan is obsessed with India, and it's this obsession with India, that Pakistani leaders continue to harbour, that creates doubts about its seriousness of purpose to combat terrorism.

We on the other hand seem convinced that India is involved in the ongoing destabilising of the country. So often we say, it's all India's fault or New Delhi with its Research and Analysis Wing (the good olde RAW) is feeding terrorist activities in the country… Such statements are intriguing and more so arguable.

The latest in the long series of conflict is suspicion that India is gaining strategic depth in Afghanistan where it has poured over a billion dollar aid since 2001 and has four (or is it twenty five?) consulates in addition to its embassy in Kabul to support secessionists in Balochistan. And the issue of Kashmir predates this.

One wonders if everything is being based on a bunch of accusations and more accusations. Where's the proof?

63 years later and our obsession with the past seems unending. Our history has all the bearings of a soap opera: Murky events running concurrently, intersecting or leading into further developments, each one characterised by a whole range of dramatic displays of emotion. Yet nothing is clear; the past is always shrouded in mystery and forgotten memory. Sometimes it seems that we do not understand or want to learn from the past, but the fact that the present seems to turn uglier and uglier leaves us with no option but to relive it. Someone even wrote a book by the name of Tehzeebi Nargisiyat or "Civilisational Narcissism" to prove that the grand Muslim civilisation is only hogwash.

If anyone has said anything profound about history, it has to be Milan Kundera. He wrote, "People are always shouting they want to create a better future. It's not true. The future is an apathetic void of no interest to anyone. The past is full of life, eager to irritate us, provoke and insult us, tempt us to destroy or repaint it. The only reason people want to be masters of the future is to change the past."

Most often, it's not about your next-door 40-year-old virgin or a charming but chronic bachelor in the family not listening to nature's alarm bells. It's about as soon as you hit your 30, the entire world around you starts conspiring to hook you up -- in more proverbial terms, to get you to tie the knot (Trust your slacker buddies to even inspire you to get laid!). Everyone in and around the house, the neighbourhood, the friends, the family friends, the friends of family friends, official visitors, salespersons at the convenience store you frequent… has the same query, only a few minutes into your conversation: why still 'single'? The aunts are the more pushy of the lot and, certainly, they aren't going to let you get away with any 'excuse'. A broken heart or being on the rebound will not satisfy them. Waiting for the right match to come along is not convincing enough. Not being financially stable doesn't help either. Of course, studies can wait. So what on earth do you do? Shaadi kar lo -- in the very first place, before everything else! But why?

Each one of us thinks he or she is the most important person in the scheme of things; our advice to the boss is the weightiest and we help solve many a knotty matter. My family, my values, my career, my children, my worldview... The list is endless because whatever I do is right. To top it all, I have a nose for critical news and can tell you about things that will happen in the near or distant future. No mean analyst I am. Now the question remains, is it a service or a disservice to myself? Well up to a certain point it's okay. But I must confess I need to draw a line somewhere. True there's none like myself but I end up limiting my own abilities. I may well try and see beyond myself in the next year and the years that follow.

If nations were to be tagged with mental disorders, Pakistan would be, within a second, diagnosed as a "split personality" when it comes to sex.

Lurking in the shadows are things like hudood laws, gruesome honour killings of people (almost always women) who were "allegedly involved in illicit behaviour" and students threatening to expose other students for holding hands or being a little chummy. We constantly want to be the upholders of modesty and chastity.

On the flipside, Pakistan tops the chart as the country that searches for the word "sex" and is always somewhere in the top ten nations that enjoys watching porn. Our favourite jokes are about sex. Our modesty flies out of the window, while a thousand eyes stare at a female that walks on the road.

The obsession with sex maybe worldwide but here the thought of sex for most people (read men) in Pakistan triggers weird dogmatic feelings of control, disgust, evil and degradation. The truth is that sexuality is just the opposite.

If you do not have a house of your own, you are a loser. True there are a lot more losers around than winners. Yet owning a house remains a dream with most people in our society. With the ever-rising inflation and house rents increasing on a regular basis, having your own house is like a mission accomplished. A goal achieved, though the desire of another and then another house automatically follows but then that's a human failing. Owning at least one house is then the mirage we keep running after all our lives. The state has shirked its responsibility of providing a decent house to all its citizens, many have been found counting every penny of their hard-earned money and still unable to buy a plot to build their house.

But we all live under some kind of roof, don't we. So let's get rid of this one for a change.

People talk about food.... that's pretty normal. Food is deeply instinctive, a social thing, a pleasure and a pastime as well as a means to stay alive. We celebrate withfood. We mark special occasions with special food. We make our loved ones their favourite foods to show them our affection. We even mourn with food. It's an art, science, fun and a fascinating subject.

You can see people streaming in for meals at the expensive eateries offering a variety of cuisine. They are not hungry. They are here to seek pleasures by stuffing their stomachs with all kind of food they can lay their hands on. Seeking pleasures through culinary delights often land them in clinics of gastroenterologists. Food perhaps is an obsession that we can and should live with. We only need to indulge in it with style. Our mental state is like a food street where you can't tell the aroma of one food from the other. It is this mental state that we need to change the next year.

But how are we different from anybody else, you may ask. We don't want more money than they do, do we? Isn't this a universal or, to be more politically correct, global phenomenon. Isn't this what the capitalist system demands of us? Once again, the obsession is not about money but how we choose to flaunt it. Big cars, expensive clothes, mansions, farmhouses, a vulgar display of upward social mobility… Perhaps we need some restraint there in the next year.

Some mourners didn't take long to express disbelief that fellow Muslims were capable of the Muharrum 10 carnage in Karachi. One shia lawyer for instance was 100 percent sure that the United States and its agents are behind the attack -- and all other such attacks in the country. Others were furious, and reportedly shouted slogans: "Down with America. Down with Taliban. Down with Israel".

Thanks to a historical baggage of colonialism and imperialism, it seems many Pakistanis are quick to point the finger for all offenses at the powers that have been imposed upon them for generations, regardless of the accuracy of these claims. Israel, America, foreign agents… There is an obsession with external forces and the evils that exist outside our borders. When it comes to blame, there is no distinction between the American people, the American government, Israel, or people of the Jewish faith in general. All are suspect and all are complicit.

The trinities of obsessions, Pakistanis usually want to be saved by a higher power, a politician or a man in the uniform (in no particular order) with a dazzling array of scenarios usually resulting in the common man getting sick and tired of one saviour and waiting for the next one. The question is when we will save ourselves?

We strongly believe in the idea. Ummah, one single body that goes beyond the considerations of borders, tribes, castes and nationhood… It is binding upon us to help Muslims wherever they are. We in this country are more concerned about the problems and miseries of our fellow brethren from Afghanistan, Iraq, Palestine, Lebanon, Sudan, Chechnya and Kashmir rather than those living close-by. Problems faced by Muslims in these countries form the subject matter of sermons of our clergy. One can hardly find prayer leaders talking about the problems of Muslims living in Pakistan. Ironically, the Ummah seems equally oblivious about Pakistan.

"Cityscapes are intriguing in that they both carry and efface the traces of history" – (Decolonizing Diyarbakir) Zeynep Gambetti

Visiting one's school after normal school hours is like watching the bustling city at dawn or being in a place left vacant by all living creatures after war or a site of atomic explosion or being amid archaeological ruins excavated after centuries.

This is perhaps how our cities, with all kinds of buildings, will be discovered in another age after some catastrophe in the near or far future. Possibility of this ghost town has turned into a reality in the recent works of Samina Mansuri. Her digital prints portray imaginary places that are devastated through abandonment, war and bombardment. The artist has constructed metallic models of urban settings, with avenues, paths, residences, building complexes and open spaces, which suggest the presence of congested cities. Mansuri, like Jorge Luis Borges (his short story of fantastical towns Tlon, Uqbar, Oebis Tertius), has named these fantasy locations as Tararatiie, Garbarabidae, Cedibidaee, Mukiirati and others with similar sound-effects.

In its structure, this cityscape resembles the internal parts of a complicated machinery, more so because of the metallic grey tone of the components. Looking at these forms, which are eventually photographed from a higher point, much like Google earth pictures, and displayed in her solo exhibitions (Dec 8–18, 2009 Chawkandi Art, Karachi and January 5–9, 2010 Rohtas 2, Lahore), one realises the rapid industrialisation of our society and its effect on our urban culture. It would be relevant to remember that the artist, after spending several years in Karachi where she taught at the Indus Valley School of Art and Architecture and emerged as one of the leading painters of her generation, has now moved to Canada. Her previous experience of living in New York, and the recent exposure to another part of North America, may have contributed towards considering and conceptualising the city being a blend of steel and concrete, and devoid of human presence and warmth.

The digital prints of Mansuri denote something else. Shadow of an alien object looming on the landscape and the stream of dark red hue with ashes indicate the aftermath of a conflict. Broken-down pieces and disrupted parts of installation signify violence that has hit the imaginary city: Almost a narrative of our time and of future times.

In the past, Samina Mansuri has produced canvases with painterly quality. These surfaces reflect a sensitive approach towards the medium and the message. Her work during the mid-nineties was marked with loosely-laid layers of paint, rendering organic shapes, which alluded to cruel realities. Internal organs and thorn-like forms frequently appeared in her paintings from that period. In the present set of works, executed in a different genre and employing a new technique, one can still detect her pictorial concerns regarding pain and misery. Pain that was initially connected to physical body has now spread to society as a whole. The current decay of our sense of security -- both because of outsider instigators and internal perpetrators -- is documented and hinted at in her prints.

Actually the works of Mansuri confirm an artist's concerns as connected to her time and locale even if she has migrated from her country of origin. Interestingly, the work is not limited to one location or incident. Her aesthetics transform these sites into an idea of destruction, which may belong to any region of modern times, since the effect of violence is visible from the air -- a view that is possible only in this age.

The artist's shift from painting to digital mode of expression is an important aspect of her aesthetics. In fact, both the stages -- of making models of the cities and then photographing these in a ruined state -- complement each other. The two gestures relate to the instinct that first builds a human habitat and as soon as it is established, begins to annihilate it. This combination of creative and destructive tendencies, in man, is aptly illustrated in these works which are basically mini-towns, erected for the sole purpose of demolition. Hence, the range of these prints conveys the primordial urge and motive of man; seen on an elementary level in a child's play, when he composes a structure with blocks and as soon as it is completed, disarranges it.

Undoubtedly, the recent prints are a shift from her painterly surfaces. Yet these confirm that despite the change of material and method, Samina Mansuri, is mindful of the role of consciousness in formulating her imagery. Her link with her homeland, despite a distance of thousands of miles, is maintained, rather rooted deeply.

This Muharram the media disappointed the viewers with the recitation of marsiya, naat and soz-o-salaam. The explanation of the varying standard may lie in the changing taste of music that has been sweeping the tonal landscape for the past couple of decades. The intonation of the notes in contemporary music as compared to traditional music in this part of the world is very different.

It has been expected by most that the changing taste will -- in fundamental terms -- change music but it was hoped by many that the quasi-religious forms, due to their affinity with religion would resist change or incorporate change gradually as a process. But the exposure to the media has opened a window of opportunity far bigger and wider than what the available talent can match.

It was not rare to see and hear established vocalists switching to the recitation during the days of mourning. It was a ritualistic shift which was accepted and lauded by all. All the great vocalists during the Muharram were spotted in their venues of choice reciting their preferred kalaam; it was an accident that a person not fully committed to the purity of the sur turned into a sozkhawan for the purposes of religious veneration. Since the quality had to be good it fulfilled its basic function of holding sufficient appeal for the niche audiences and only a trained vocalist could do that.

Probably in the 19th century marsiya, soz, noha, salam became a more specialised form as a distinct community of marsiyago or sozkhawans emerged. From the writings of Abdul Halim Sharar about Lucknow it appears that during the Nawabi rule in Awadh, soz or marsiyakhawan specialists, almost comparable to the best known vocalists or singers, were instrumental in evolving the form of recitation even prevalent now. One lead vocalist while the rest identified the tonic note or at best recited the refrain, seemed to have been perfected in the 19th century Awadh.

But other than such instances, the professional vocalist offered his homage. The invasion of the amateurs, though laudable for breaking the stranglehold of the professional, is quite deplorable in rewarding mediocrity. It is now an axiomatic truth that most of the vocalists and musicians take pride in not being trained or being the shagird of an ustad.

It was hoped that due to the binding clause of being quasi-religious there was greater possibility of the marsiya, hamd, naat recitation and the qawwali rendition being less susceptible to change. Most of the qawwali, hamd, naat and marsiya, soz, salam is rendered in the traditional manner, composed in modal structures where the application of the note is specifically in accordance with the indigenous ang. Even when Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan rendered the tragedy of Karbala in the qawwali format, he did so in the most traditional ang.

In the various regions like Southern Punjab and Sindh, distinct marsiya recitation are rendered in Punjabi and Sindhi while in urban areas the leading vocalists have been the main reciters of the marsiya. Noor Jehan, Mehdi Hasan, Chotey Ghulam Ali Khan, Amanat Ali, Fateh Ali, Hamid Ali Bela, Nusrat Fateh Ali, Ghulam Ali, Hamid Ali, Ghulam Abbas may not have been professional marsiya reciters but they all partook of this religious obligation.

In the regional or not so mainstream channels it was still a relief to hear certain of the sozkhawan and marsiyakhawans adhering to some tradition. But one wondered how long it will take for the barrier of tradition and veneration to break down completely before an invasion of sorts to takes place. It seems that the dreadful moment has arrived, dashing the hope that it will take only after a more wholesome synthesis of style has been evolved.

Four men sitting in the middle of a green field that has patches of barren land, busy in a discussion, thinking what issue should they base their play on -- which they are going to stage in a few minutes. It is a weekly, Friday routine.

In a nearby mosque named after Baitullah Mehsud, the Asr prayers have just been offered and around 200 men, old and young, with numerous children -- apparently from religious seminaries, are now leaving the mosque and heading out to an open corner of this space is a heap of garbage while the other is used by children as playground. For the locals, it's time to enjoy; for they are going to witness the performance of Muhammadzada Dilshad and his fellow actors.

Muzaffarabad Colony is a slum located in a far-off corner of Quaidabad in Karachi. Its population is around 3,000 composed of different ethnicities. However, Pashtuns are in majority here; Muhammadzada, the scrape-vendor and a passionate actor, is one of them.

Born in Karachi some forty years back (he doesn't remember his date of birth), Muhammadzada's family hailed from Swat to the 'city of lights' in 1966. Since then he's been living in this very slum, a two-room house, with six children to feed. Poverty has taken a great toll on him.

Three decades ago, Pushto movies had a good market in Karachi. They were released in cinema screens quite regularly and got a good response from the Pushto-speaking filmgoers. Muhammadzada was one of them. He was always fascinated by movies and dreamt of becoming an actor. So he started looking for avenues to explore his talent. All in vain, because he neither had school education nor proper guidance to make his dream come true. Later, he got married and now has six children and one grandchild.

In his teens, he had joined a street-theatre group of local amateur actors, headed by a local celebrity Syed Ali Shah, famously known as Syed Bacha, who used to arrange similar gatherings for his people just for fun in the same vicinity. Syed Bacha also performed in other Pushtoon colonies in Karachi, including Banaras and Sohrab Goth. He later gave up his passion for acting when he was going to Lahore to do a small act in a movie in 1989 upon the insistence of his mother. He promised her that he wouldn't act anymore. She died later, but he has kept his promise to date.

Muhammadzada was his disciple. He recruited fresh talent and started doing street theatre in the early nineties. He's kept his passion alive while putting his act before his audiences every week for the past 18 years.

In his journey, he faced many difficulties besides poverty. One of them is resistance from local clerics. In fact, they invoked public sentiments against him and even tried to stop him, for they believed his plays were unethical and too provocative for the young minds of the colony. But Muhammadzada fought the odds, eventually having his way.

Of his Friday theatrical adventures, Muhammadzada says: "I love it. It's fun and helps people laugh, think and relax. We talk about social issues, such as domestic violence, injustice, family problems, corruption, lack of education and, most of all, the problems our poor people face in their daily life."

When asked how his acts affect his audiences, he says, "There have been instances when somebody in the audience got carried away and started cursing me. Once I was playing a character who beats his wife. The women in the audience didn't like it and slapped me. We stopped the proceedings and, later, and tried to make them understand that it's just acting." He admits that it was rare of women to attend his plays, because of tribal customs.

But Muhammadzada has no regrets. He says he has enjoyed his life, no matter how difficult it has been so far. "On another occasion, an old man in beard shouted at my fellow actor because the latter threw his father out of his house in a play. It was about how sometimes boys treat their parents who are getting old. It was a panicky situation."

Muhammahzada runs his own theatre group with four actors, one storywriter, and no aid from anyone. His group members include Ameer Naushad (45), Shahid Zaman (30) and Akber Khan (38).

One of his fellow actors Muhammad Fayyaz Pardesi, a 17-year old innocent-looking boy -- is asked to play the female characters, because Muhammadzada cannot recruit women to do the job.

Another member of Muhammadzada's group, Shahid Zaman, a mason by profession, does the job of visualising. He takes up a social issue and a story around it. His inspiration is Pushto and Urdu movies. His themes are not complexly theatrical and lack a climax a theatre academic or a critic would look for in a play. Muhamamdzada doesn't have resources for props, costumes or stage, but he manages to get four to five hundred attendants every week.

Dear All,

Our winter holidays have been spent mostly in sleeping and eating and relaxing... amazing how fatigued your mind and body become with the everyday routine or work/school/home, a few days off and the tiredness really hits you then. Anyhow, in between sleeping late and being couch potatoes (entrenched on the sofa, sole activity being pressing buttons on the TV remote), we did all manage to go to the cinema and see the much hyped-up film Avatar.

All I knew about the film was that it was created by James Cameron (of Titanic fame) and that it was one of the most expensive films ever made ($300 million or some such). I really didn't know what to expect and was not too excited as I am not much of a science fiction buff, but I have to say I was pleasantly surprised because Avatar is not just sci-fi, it tells a story with deep moral, political and environmental overtones. The humans are, of course, the villains of the story -- they are occupying a new land, pretending to be benign and friendly occupiers who are there to help the natives but we discover are actually there for devious and more profit-oriented reasons.

The human scientists are not part of the devious military-political-big business nexus but are working on the planet to try and find out more about the eco system and the species living there. The scientists' team is led by Dr Grace Augustine (Sigourney Weaver) who is wary of the accidental new recruit ex-marine Jake Sully (Sam Worthington). The main project they are involved in is the creation of Avatars (local incarnations) of themselves that they can live in to experience life on the planet. This takes us in to the dreamlike forest where the Nav'i people live in harmony with nature. (Harmony with nature and not breaching the natural order is a big theme in this film. Think eco friendly, think Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner). The Nav'i themselves are large blue people about who the Guardian newspaper reviewer rather aptly remarked, "They all look like Angelina Jolie, especially the men".

So we have a situation of occupation, colonisation and an attempt to wrest control of valuable natural resources from the natives... Sounds familiar? Of course it does, and you really cannot escape the echoes of Iraq and Afghanistan that ring out all over this movie. But don't let that put you off -- Avatar is a good story and takes you into a beautiful, weird landscape that is a pretty new experience for most of us. We went to see the 3-D version and despite the embarrassing and uncomfortable 3-D glasses we really were transported into a disconcerting sort of aquarium experience...

Avatar is an interesting film and definitely worth seeing not just because of it visual and dramatic qualities but also because of the questions it raises.

The other new film we went to see over the holidays does not raise many questions except, perhaps: what would Sir Arthur Conan Doyle have made of it? This was Guy Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes with Robert Downey Junior as Sherlock Holmes and Jude Law as Dr Watson. The film is good fun but the plot is absolutely ridiculous (Spouse described it as "James Bond meets Dan Brown and the Da Vinci Code type thrillers"), and the whole thing is a series of entertaining vignettes and exciting fight scenes (Ritchie does seem to love fight scenes). Perhaps the most interesting thing about the film is its reinterpretation of the Holmes-Watson relationship. Watson is on the brink of marriage and Holmes is deeply resentful of this and very, very cross that he is losing his friend and housemate. Watson is reinvented as a confident and assertive character with Holmes seeming to be the more emotionally dependent character. Robert Downey is excellent depicting this new Holmes who despite intense mental agility and physical strength (great physique -- lots of shirtless scenes to keep us happy), is able to convey a deep vulnerability in his character. Jude Law does well as Watson and there is a lot of humour throughout the film so it is all pretty enjoyable, but diehard Conan Doyle fans might have some problems with the Ritchie version...

Now next on the list of films to see if Nowhere Boy about John Lennon's early years and complicated family set-up. But till then back to the rest-and-relaxation, my-home-is-my-sanctuary, my-sofa-is-my-home, my-TV-is-my-friend mode of holiday activity....